Silver Lining
by Calendulam
Summary: Kurt looks after post-surgery Blaine under the watchful eye of his parents.


I'm a bit late to the party with this one. I started writing it after _Michael_ aired last week then got crazy busy and only finished it today. I also have a partially written "how I wish it would have ended" fic for that episode. Hopefully I'll care enough to finish after the upcoming episodes have aired. Urgh. The spoilers are making me want to throw things.

I don't own Glee. Feedback would be much appreciated. :)

~0~

Kurt never thought that in a million years he would ever witness the spectacle that was Blaine Anderson stoned out of his mind.

"The car is moving, Kurt. The car is moving _so fast_, but we're staying still. That's so _weird_." Blaine giggled and pressed the side of his face with his good eye against Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt just patted Blaine's knee distractedly and tried to ignore the way Blaine's father's eyes kept flicking up to watch them in the rearview mirror. Kurt hoped it was out of concern for his son and that the disapproval Kurt thought he caught flashes of was just his imagination.

Blaine shifted and pressed his face up higher so that his nose was buried in the dip over Kurt's clavicle. He took several deeps breaths and hummed happily before pressing his nose into Kurt's bare skin and taking a big sniff. Kurt suddenly wished he hadn't gone for comfort over fashion today and worn something that left him a bit more covered.

"Blaine," he whispered, seeing Mr. Anderson's disapproving eyes once again in the mirror. "Stop sniffing me."

Blaine didn't bother to keep his voice down. "You smell so good. Like _Kurt_. My favourite smell." He shifted once again and flipped his leg up to lay over Kurt's thighs. Kurt's eyes widened and he pushed Blaine's leg off of his, taking him by the hips and turning his body so he faced front once more.

"Blaine," he whispered again. Blaine's head lolled to the side and he grinned. "Honey, that's not a very good idea right now, okay?"

"I love it when you call me honey," Blaine replied and closed his good eye with a happy sigh.

Kurt leaned back against the leather seat and watched Blaine's little smile, avoiding looking towards the front of the car from where he was sure he could feel the heat of Mr. Anderson's glare boring a hole straight through him.

When they arrived at the Andersons' house, Mr. Anderson was quick to circle around and open Blaine's door. He grabbed Blaine by the arm and attempted to usher him out of the car. Blaine ripped his arm out of his father's grip and gave him his best attempt at a glare, which was mostly feeble due to his eye patch and the fact that he was still flying high on the sedation he was given for his operation.

"Kurt," Blaine said, not even bothering to spare his father a second glance. "Is going to help me."

Kurt hesitated for a second, debating which would be worse: denying his poor, sweet, injured boyfriend, or possibly further irritating Mr. Anderson. He decided he would take whatever Mr. Anderson might throw at him in order to cater to Blaine's every whim, and gently pulled Blaine out of the door and to his feet. The brilliant smile he got in return was well worth any future ugliness on the parental front. Blaine stumbled a little and Kurt placed an arm around his waist to steady him.

"I love you the most," Blaine said. Just about melting into a puddle of goo, Kurt pulled Blaine closer and pressed his lips to the top of Blaine's tousled curls which he had been forced to leave au naturel before the procedure.

"I've got you," Kurt reassured him, his voice sounding thick with emotion. "Let's get you inside."

After a trying ten minute trip to the top of the stairs, Blaine was finally settled in his bed. Mrs. Anderson was fussing about and tucking a blanket tightly around him as Kurt stood by awkwardly and watched.

"Is there anything you need, dear?" she asked as she smoothed Blaine's curls away from his forehead. "The doctor said you can't eat for a while, but I can get you a drink or put on some music. You should probably rest your eye."

"No thank you. I just need Kurt. I need Kurt to stay and look after me. He can stay with me, right Mama?"

"Blaine..." Mrs. Anderson hesitated a moment, her hand poised over Blaine's forehead, ready to push back the stubborn curls once more. "Well, I'll have to check with Mr. Hummel to make sure it's alright. I'll go call him, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine said happily, wiggling his toes under the blanket. "He told me to call him Burt," he informed his mother. Kurt couldn't help but smile with fondness – such a simple thing made Blaine so ridiculously happy. "He calls me _kiddo_. I like it when he calls me that. He named me. That means he likes me, right Kurt?"

"Of course. What's not to like?"

Mrs. Anderson laughed at Blaine's wide grin before turning to pat Kurt on the shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she whispered. "Once the magic drugs wear off in an hour's time he's going to be impossible. You have no idea."

"I'll manage," he whispered back. "If he wants me, I'm here."

Mrs. Anderson gave him a soft smile and squeezed his shoulder with her tiny hand. "Don't say I didn't warn you. I love my baby, but he's the worst patient ever."

Forty-five minutes later the whining began.

"This sucks."

"I know, Blaine. Just hold on for twenty more minutes and you can eat something, okay? Then you can take your painkillers and _hopefully_ they'll make you pass out."

Blaine kicked his foot under the blankets, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face. "I can't even watch anything. This is the worst. At least when I'm sick I can watch movies or something. You still have the original of that tape, right? Because I think I've changed my mind about handing them all over to the cops. They can suck it."

"Okay, if that's what you want to do, we can call them tomorrow."

"Kurt – I can feel my heartbeat _in my eye_. That isn't right. God, I hate this room. I want to go outside. I want to go for coffee. I want to go dancing. I can't even sing; my voice is all scratchy. This freaking blows. And not in the fun way."

"Well maybe it can blow in the fun way tomorrow when your parents are out."

"Really? I love you. That's the best idea you've ever had."

"Just promise me that you're going to calm down. I'll get you something to eat and we'll knock you out with some good drugs. Okay, baby?"

Mr. Anderson wandered into the room soon after Blaine fell asleep, his head pillowed on Kurt's chest and fingers tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Did he take his pills before he fell asleep?" he asked, taking in their position on the bed, their clothing, the way their bodies moulded perfectly together. Kurt wondered if he realized that Kurt hadn't left the room to change into his borrowed pyjamas and if it set off warning bells about their level of intimacy, far more than the fact that Blaine was wrapped around his body with his arms holding Kurt to him in a death grip.

"Yes," Kurt replied. "At six. I'll wake him up in four hours to take them again."

He stood in the centre of the room watching Kurt's face, not saying a word, his own expression inscrutable. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. Was he trying to intimidate Kurt into moving away from Blaine? Kurt told himself that he wouldn't move away, that he refused to be intimidated, but the heat of that stare was intense and he was about to peel Blaine from his body when Mr. Anderson looked him directly in the eye.

"You love my son."

It was a statement, not a question, yet Kurt still felt compelled to answer. "Yes."

The light eyes were roving over his face once more, searching, always searching for _something._

The eyes stopped their searching and closed and Mr. Anderson nodded once, slowly, then opened his eyes and nodded again. "Okay," he said in a quiet voice and turned away.

He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Kurt understood Blaine's giddiness at some measure of fatherly acceptance the next morning when Mr. Anderson woke him with a gentle hand on his arm. "It's time for Blaine's medication again. I made breakfast. I hope you like waffles."

It was no _call me Burt, kiddo_, but it was progress. Even Blaine's proclamation of "Just leave me here to die!" when Kurt roused him couldn't dim the smile on Kurt's face. Especially not when Mr. Anderson chuckled along with him and ruffled Blaine's bedhead before leaving them alone to eat.


End file.
